Grumpy Old Sheriockians

Everybody, repeat after me:

I won't be a grumpy old Sherlockian.

I won't be a grumpy old Sheriockian.

I won't be a grumpy old Sherlockian.

Now do that a few thousand times in the upcoming year, and maybe we can keep this little hobby of ours a fun place to be for the new millennium.  

What? You mean to tell me that it already is a fun place to be? There you have it, I'm already showing the warning signs of Sherlockian grumpiness.  

Most people on the verge of forty are starting to worry about hair loss, heart disease, or failing memory. Me, I'm starting to worry about becoming a grumpy old Sherlockian.  

The most obvious sign of this dread affliction is when your mind starts giving precedence to the past over the present or future.  

"There'll never be another workshop like the ones Shaw used to host."  

"None of this new, so-called Sherlockian scholarship wiU ever be as great as the classic Starrett works."  

"Nobody will ever write a pastiche that's as good as the original Doyle Holmes."

"Things, just ain't what they used to be,eh,sonny?"  

Sherlockian grumpiness is a subtle thing. It seems perfectly reasonable to say something like "Nobody will ever write a pastiche that's as good as the original Doyle." But the truth is, nobody knows that for a fact. Some brilliant young writer could turn out a Holmes story next year that could blow the doors off anything Doyle ever wrote. It's not probable, but it's possible.  

Remember what Holmes said:  "...when you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." The entire basis of the best mysteries Holmes solved was that entirely improbable chains of events. And Sherlock always managed to solve those mysteries because he was open to every possibility that isn't totally impossible.  

The same technique applies to enjoying life, be it Sherlockian or otherwise. If you stay open to all the possibilities, you never know what might happen. And you might even have a very good time when it does.  

Traditions have their place. At the meetings of the Hansoms of John Clayton, we always begin each meeting with a little thing we call the Clayton Ritual and end with a reading of Vincent Starrett's poem "22 IB." What happens in between those two events is a forever-changing kaleidoscope of things, but the bookend rituals let us know when the meeting has officially begun and when it officially ends. But those two things aren't the meeting itself.  

Traditions are useful tools, to be stocked as needed. As Holmes said in his brain-attic lecture:  

"... the skilful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work..."  

Sometimes we let fond memories tell us to keep tools that are no longer useful. In hying to hold on to past glories, the Baker Street Irregulars failed to admit women to its ranks until the 1990's. They lost a lot of good times and Sherlockian potentials with that act. And that is the greatest danger in becoming a grumpy old Sherlockian ... the potential loss of your present and future.

The latest issue of The Baker Street Journal features a cartoon of Edgar Smith in place of Holmes on the cover, and a lead-off article on the original  series of The Baker Street Journal. While it's all well and good to tell us how wonderful the journal used to be, shouldn't someone be concentrating on how good it could be now?  

Since a man who lived in the Victorian era is the focus of our hobby, it would seem natural to turn our gaze backward. But as Vincent Starrett said in his oft-quoted poem, "It is always 1895." In other words, we don't have to look back to see Holmes. He's always with us, and his London is always with us.  

Using the past as a yardstick is no way to measure. Like a fish in a fish story that yardstick can get bigger and bigger until it always makes present things look small. Inside the front cover of The Baker Street Journal, you'll find the words, "Founded by Edgar Smith, Continued by Julian Wolff." But what about later edi- tors John Linsenmeyer, Peter Blau, Philip Shreffler, Bill Cochran, and Donald Pollock? Smith and Wolff might have been there first, but each of those latter editors has just as many legendary qualities. Even if you don't like this guy, or have a grudge against that guy because he didn't publish your paper, it doesn't diminish the fact that there was (and is) something special in each of those men.  

Keeping an open mind is the key to preventing Sherlockian grumpiness. Open to me past, present, and especially the future, because that's where every new good thing is going to come from ... if we let it. And who really likes being grumpy anyway?  

(Printed in Plugs & Dottles, February 1997)